


So Much

by LunaStoat



Category: Transformers (Bay Movies), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Birth, F/M, Mech Preg, Pregnancy, Transformer Sparklings, depiction of sensory overload, graphic depiction of birth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-20
Updated: 2018-09-20
Packaged: 2019-07-14 19:08:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16046720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunaStoat/pseuds/LunaStoat
Summary: When a working-class Autobot technician falls into emergence during an attack, she finds herself needing to depend on one of the most famed soldiers to escort her to safety.





	So Much

**Author's Note:**

> I shouldn't be posting something this self-indulgent online, but here we are. I think I've gotten kind of shameless in the seven months I've been in the Transformers fandom. I don't really care who sees this, I just want to show off. I'm having a great time. Yeehaw.
> 
> I invented Hardwire just so I can torment her and then let her be loved. If someone tells me that there is actually a canon character named Hardwire in the Transformers franchise, I'm gonna lose it.
> 
> Also! I'm not sure if the mech preg tag is exclusively for male-coded robots or if it's for pregnant robots in general, so please let me know if this does not belong in the tag. I thought I'd give some kind of warning that this is about a weird robot pregnancy.

            The air was filled with the thunder of war, meaning the overwhelming roars of gunfire and victorious screams of those that had taken the supposedly hidden laboratory. Surely, the attempts by the few remaining Autobots inside to take it back and defend their imperative creations had to be in vain by now, thought one such Autobot that managed to escape. She was far – though not far enough, so she thought – from the conflict, buried in a hovel of her own creation: a hole she’d blasted through the dirt, covered and surrounded by debris she’d collect that hopefully blended in with the rest of the chaos.

            Her processor was nearly overheated, not only because of all of the noise, but from the sharp pain that wracked her rounded abdominal plating. She set a shaking servo to it, gritting her dentae as she desperately tried to listen for any approaching figures, be them Autobot or Decepticon. Hiding wasn’t going to do her good for very long; anyone could detect her spark signature if they weren’t preoccupied, and the Autobot’s fellow technicians up at the overtaken lab weren’t going to distract the Decepticons for much longer. The rubs to her gestation tank weren’t going to ease the contractions, but perhaps she could at least assure the sparkling she was trying to keep them safe. She let out an ex-vent once the contraction subsided, thinking she might as well try one more time to send a distress message before her overheating processor inevitably forced her body to shut down.

 

::This is Hardwire, science division at Tagon Heights. I’m surrounded with little-no-with no means of escape. I’m… in emergence. I’ve hidden myself outside the building. I need assistance.::

 

            A klik later and no response. Great. So, who knew if either her or her sparkling would survive. Another contraction hit and suddenly all the chaos outside blared into her audio receptors, like all of it was pouncing her at once. Every sensation she felt - the ripping in her abdomen, the ringing in her audio processors that made the antennas that stood up on either side of her helm vibrate, and the tightness of her surroundings - all intensified as she painfully arched her back and gritted her dentae again to hold back a scream.

 

::Please help. Everything is so much.::

 

 

            “…soldier! We need….out of here.”

            Hardwire onlined her optics to be greeted by some of the brightness of the outside spilling into her little hovel, though most of it was blocked by the hulking figure of a black mech that had knelt at the hole’s entrance. Her shoulders immediately tensed, only for her to notice the Autobot insignia on one of the mech’s broad shoulders. An ally. She sat herself up slightly, trying to detect the Autobot’s identity. He certainly seemed familiar, though she doubted she’d actually met him. He let out an exasperated sigh upon realizing that she had not actually processed what he said to her.

            “Weapon specialist, Ironhide,” he stated, holding a servo out. Of course, Ironhide. Without having met him, Hardwire knew enough about him to recognize him upon hearing the name. She saw him press one of his digits against the side of his helm, likely contacting whoever sent him after her. And she’d assumed no one heard her distress message.

            “Ratchet’s not too pleased they made you work in your condition,” Ironhide continued. “He told me to get you to him.”

            Ratchet was a close friend, perhaps more than that. Hardwire had been seeing him briefly a few times a month since she was sparked and she’d gotten an audio-full from him more than a couple times about how dangerous it could be to stay in the labs while she was carrying, especially in the middle of this heated war.

            Another sharp contraction flaring her abdomen told her she was probably going to hear an “I told you so” from him if she and Ironhide made it. The moan that came from Hardwire then was the first sound Ironhide had heard out of her, she’d realized. He looked to be trying to resist wincing at the sight of the femme doubled over in pain, gritting his dentae while he continued pressing on his comm-link.

           “How far apart are the contractions?” Ironhide repeated what likely was what Ratchet just asked him. When Hardwire didn’t answer him, he huffed and spoke louder. “Hardwire, how far-“

            “I don’t know!” Hardwire’s optics snapped wide toward Ironhide while she seethed through her dentae, the noise outside somehow even louder than before.

            “Could you… count them?” Ironhide asked. “Or read your HUD to- “

            “Just stop asking questions!” Hardwire was visibly shaking, clutching her abdomen while curling her helm toward her chest. While her internal fans ran with a roar and her body heated, words escaped her that probably were meant to be mere thoughts: “It’s too much.”

            Ironhide then relaxed his shoulder struts and seemed to be patiently waiting for Hardwire’s contraction to subside. He hesitated to speak again when it did, lowering his voice.

            “I need to know if we can make it to Ratchet, Hardwire,” he continued. “Do you understand that?”

            “Yes.”

            “Then tell me, doesn’t it feel like the sparkling is coming now?”

            Hardwire lifted her helm but said nothing, only staring ahead at her bent knees and the wall of the hole.

            “Soon, Hardwire? Within the next few kliks?” Ironhide pressed, his nerves showing through the tone of his voice even with his best efforts. “I need to know if we have time.”

            Hardwire shook her helm.

            “Alright. Can you stand?” Ironhide held his servo out to Hardwire again. She nodded and took it, struggling to lift her own weight as Ironhide pulled her out of her hovel. Ironhide set his free arm around her Persian green and silver body, helping her stand while gently pushing her up. Once she was on her pedes, he let her lean against him as they began to walk, keeping his sizable arm around her protectively. She felt tiny next to him; she was an average height of sixteen feet with a fairly wide build, but Ironhide’s build was considerably bulky for a twenty-two-foot mech. It probably took him some effort not to accidentally lift Hardwire as they continued forward.

            Hardwire looked up the hill, where the facility she worked in was still surrounded by Decepticons. Some were close, and it wasn’t as though she and Ironhide weren’t in plain sight. She grimaced at the thought that the enemy might see them, her in the state she was in, and attack. Ironhide probably sensed it easily, because he leaned his helm toward her antenna and uttered “Look there.”

            He gestured to the base of the hill, where Hardwire could recognize a few out of the cluster of Autobots that swarmed toward the building to fend off the Decepticons. They came from every direction, three two-wheeler femmes – one pink, one blue, and one purple – zipping right passed Hardwire and Ironhide. The pink one turned her helm to give Ironhide a nod of assurance as she passed by.

            “We’ll cover you,” she hollered before she joined her trio to blast at the closest few Decepticons while Hardwire and Ironhide toiled in the opposite direction. Ironhide returned a quick nod of thanks before her focus shifted away from him.

            “One of my best students,” Ironhide boasted softly to Hardwire, unable to hold in a quiet rise of laughter. “Her designation’s Arcee. Maybe you’ve heard of her?”

            “The famed hunter? Yes, I have,” Hardwire answered.

            “They’re exceptional fighters, all three of them,” Ironhide continued. He almost seemed as though he wanted to stop and watch the trio, but continued on with the occasional concerned glance toward Hardwire. “I’m proud of them; I’ve watched them grow stronger over the course of several thousand stellar-cycles.”

            “I’m sure.” Hardwire seemed to brush the prideful comments off, not that she wasn’t interested, but there was too much going on at the moment for her to even attempt to listening to any of Ironhide’s doting. A whine and whirr of her engine escaped her as she once again clutched her abdomen, which Ironhide quickly picked up on. Hardwire knew this because his facial features quickly twisted into a grimace that could only come with remembering that one is escorting a carrier in emergence.

            “Should we stop?” he asked in a whisper. “There’s some cover over there.”

            “No,” Hardwire croaked. Though she struggled to keep walking, she refused to risk not making it to Ratchet on time. The very thought that her sparkling might just slip out of her while they were still on the road, or while a Decepticon stood over them, terrified her.

            Ironhide nodded, pausing to sling Hardwire’s arm over his shoulder strut – effectively lifting her pedes off the ground – and began running. At least he agreed on wanting to hurry.

 

 

            “Slaggit!”

            Hardwire hunched over on her knees, gasping heavy ex-vents with Ironhide’s arm still around her back. They were far from the fight now and Hardwire tried to walk some of the way to keep Ironhide from getting tired, but the intensity of her current raging contraction told her that they weren’t close enough to the ship Ratchet apparently claimed to be meeting them halfway with. Just before she could think that maybe she was just panicking, a rush of fluid seeped through the cracks of her interface panel, staining the ground below. Ironhide had knelt down beside her, some prodding at her shoulder strut letting her know that he was trying to reach her.

            “Stay with me, soldier,” he barked. “Those contractions close?”

            “Close,” she hissed through her dentae in response. She couldn’t pull herself to give an answer that was any more detailed.

            “Alright… Slag.” Ironhide stood up, pressing his digit to his helm again. By the look on his face, it seemed he was probably passing Ratchet some disgruntled comments likely pertaining to why the ship could pull any closer to their location and getting quite the biting in return. He knelt down to Hardwire again once it seemed he was finished. “We’re almost there; we’ll make it in just another breem. Can you still walk or do you need me to pick you up?”

            Hardwire nodded.

            “Yes?” Ironhide demanded. “Yes, you can walk? Or yes, you need me to carry you?”

            “Please shut up,” was all Hardwire responded with.

            “Alright, alright.” Ironhide made his voice softer while he put his arms around the hunched-over femme. “Carrying you it is, then.”

            Hardwire was quickly lifted into Ironhide’s bulky arms, cradled tightly against his chassis before he started to run. Ironhide’s facial plates contorted in disgust as he felt the gestational fluid drip onto his finish, shuddering internally at the very real possibility that this sparkling they were trying to save might be born right into his grasp. Hardwire could hear him very quietly curse Ratchet when this contraction finally faded. The next one came only a klik later, causing her to cry out more loudly than she’d ever even heard herself. She curled her legs tightly to herself as she seethed through gritted dentae, clinging to Ironhide.

            “You’d better not push,” he uttered in her audio receptor with a more accusing tone than Hardwire was comfortable with.

            “I’m not!” Although, now that Ironhide mentioned it, the urge was certainly creeping up on her.

            The roaring of engines ahead of the two told them that the small search-and-rescue vessel had just landed. Ironhide picked up speed toward the newly opened loading dock while Hardwire whimpered into him, suddenly having to resist a particularly powerful urge to push. His gigantic pedes clanked against the metal of the floor harshly as he nearly plowed into one of the few Autobots that traveled with Ratchet.

            “Where’s Ratchet?” he shouted, causing the pilot to have to rub his audio sensors. “She’s not going to last much longer!”

            “This way, ‘Hide.” Ratchet stood at the end of the small hallway, in front of the opened door to the small, private medical bay. He waved Ironhide over, causing the assisting ‘bots to move out of the way before the bulky mech could run them down. Even just the short distance from the ship’s entrance to the medibay was unbearable for Hardwire as she ex-vented pants and held her legs tightly together, trying to hold herself back for just nanokliks longer.

            “I can’t,” she cried out, just barely succumbing to her need by letting herself push just a little. She’d hoped it’d satisfy her until she was laid down and Ratchet was ready to help her deliver.

            “See?” Ironhide exclaimed, Ratchet answering him with an unsettlingly calm expression of recognition.

            “Dear Primus. Alright, the both of you calm down.” Ratchet lead the two inside the medibay, gesturing toward the berth. “Set her down there, Ironhide.”

            As Ironhide did so, Hardwire couldn’t help but notice the expression on Ratchet’s face that told her that he had a myriad of complaints for her, likely pertaining to her own carelessness. However, he would hold them off until later; unlike Ironhide, Ratchet understood that the last thing Hardwire needed at the moment was to be badgered with comments and unnecessary questions.

            “Now, help her stay elevated, ‘Hide,” Ratchet ordered, catching Ironhide before he could take off. “She could probably use your comfort.”

            “What? But- Ratchet, I’m not exactly a… a…” Ironhide sputtered, earning a side-eying glance from Ratchet, who shut the door to the medibay.

            “Just hold her back struts up, maybe hold her servo,” Ratchet stated somewhat harshly before making his voice softer for his patient. “Hardwire, how’s your processor?”

            “Ah… It’s warm, but… It was worse when we were still where the fighting was.” Hardwire’s ex-vents were heavy, her entire body shaking on the berth. Ratchet noticed her discomfort and placed his servo on hers as soon as he was close enough.

            “Easy now, Hardwire. Try to relax,” Ratchet uttered gently before taking his servo away from hers and placing himself at Hardwire’s legs, which he started to help her spread. Upon looking up from them, he noticed Ironhide squirming in place and shifting on his pedes. “Ironhide, you’re really not helping.”

            “What?” To Ironhide’s credit, he did do as Ratchet asked him; his left arm was around Hardwire’s back, keeping it supported so she was elevated at an angle, and his right servo held hers. It would’ve been a rather sweet image if Ironhide didn’t look completely horrified.

            Ratchet rolled his optics and sighed. “Alright, Hardwire. Open your interface panel.”

            Hardwire did so, right away pushing before Ratchet had the chance to even give the word. Energon and fluid from her gestation tank gushed out of her and onto the edge of the berth, interfering with Ratchet’s observation of her spreading valve. With a hum and no hesitance that Hardwire could detect, he slipped one of his digits in the soaked valve and could feel the sparkling’s helm once it was halfway in. “She’s already close.”

            He slid the digit out, keeping his optics fixated on the valve as Hardwire bore down again.

            “That’s very good, Hardwire,” he said. “You’re doing wonderfully so far.”

            Hardwire felt her swollen abdomen contract harshly, pushing as hard as she could with it. She could feel the sparkling’s heavy weight move through her and she could hardly focus enough to think of if it disgusted her or… or…

            “Ah!”

            The bitlet was certainly coming faster than she could comprehend, and by Primus it hurt.

            “Keep pushing! Come on!” Somehow, Ironhide decided he was in a position to start barking orders at her even though he’d been squirming in disgust of the emergence process like some kind of youngling for the past breem, and that annoyed Hardwire.

            “Be quiet,” she yelped through an agonized cry.

            Ratchet held a servo up to silence Ironhide. He knew Hardwire’s body was going to tell her when to bear down and that ordering her to do so was only going to irritate her easily-heated processor more.

            “Just focus, that’s it,” he continued, soothingly. “It’s almost crowning, Hardwire. You’re doing so well.”

            Hardwire could feel the sparkling’s wide helm start to reach her lower lips, spreading them. Her cries elevated when it slowly began to brush passed those lips and she had to suppress kicking one of her legs. Ironhide seemed to finally catch onto what the word “comfort” meant, as Hardwire felt him squeeze her servo and gently shush her. She didn’t have the energy to check if his anxiousness still showed in his optics. She assumed the answer to that was yes. Ratchet’s servo was applying pressure to the bitlet’s crowning helm, keeping it from slipping out too fast. Hardwire could just barely hear him uttering soft-spoken words of encouragement over her own screaming. Finally, the entire helm slid out with her help, into Ratchet’s open servo. Ratchet kept it supported, smiling up toward the still-panting Hardwire.

            “That’s good. See? The helm’s out,” he spoke. “Looks a lot like you.”

            Hardwire let her shoulder struts relax in Ironhide’s hold while she let herself mentally catch up to the moment. It was almost over. It was almost over…

            “Just a little bit more,” Ratchet continued. “Right after the shoulder struts come, it’ll all be over. I promise.”

Ironhide kept his hold on Hardwire while she bore down again, harder and for longer than she did before. That isn’t to say she was able to hold it for too long, but she felt one shoulder start to slip out just a little bit. For all the good that did, she was getting exhausted. The movement of her own muscles, her voice, Ratchet’s voice, and Ironhide’s presence all started to melt into a fantastic blur as her focus started to dissipate.

            When it came back, however, her sparkling was screeching in Ratchet’s servos.

            Hardwire’s optics were just barely adjusting to her reality when Ratchet held the little one up for her to see, wiped the femme newspark off, and set her down on her carrier’s chassis. For nearly the entire next klik, Hardwire just stared at the whimpering sparkling clinging to her, as if she didn’t comprehend what was in front of her yet. Slowly, however, did she reach her arms forward and wrap them carefully around the green bitlet, pulling her closer. She weakly lifted her head and nuzzled the smaller being with quiet shushes. While Ironhide gently laid Hardwire down and Ratchet cleaned the mess that was currently her valve, all Hardwire knew was her sparkling that slowly settled down in her grasp.

            She’d assumed Ironhide would be gone right after she just barely heard Ratchet’s hushed whisper of thanks to him, but suddenly the warrior was at her side again.

            “That’s a real pretty sparkling,” he whispered toward one of her antennas. “You got a name for her?”

            Hardwire nodded. She couldn’t find the words to answer Ironhide at the moment, which left him awkwardly waiting beside her until he figured that out for himself.

            “…Well. You take care of her, alright? Cybertron’s a dangerous planet now.”

            With that, Ironhide was gone. Ratchet pressed down on Hardwire’s legs, signaling that they could relax and that he’d finished cleaning her off. Ratchet then draped a thermal blanket over Hardwire and the sparkling, which only served to remind Hardwire how exhausted she was. He moved beside her, leaning in to nuzzle her.

            “You should be proud. Are you?” he whispered. “I’m proud.”

            Hardwire only responded by nuzzling back.


End file.
